Her Tattooed Fighter
Evernight
Publishing
Copyright© 2013
Jenika
Snow
ISBN: 978-1-77130-661-4
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor:
Karyn
White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
This is for the readers. Thank you for being so supportive and sticking by me! Without you this wouldn't be possible. And a big
thank
you to
Evernight
for being an incredible publisher and allowing my stories to have a home with you.
HER TATTOOED FIGHTER
The Fighters of Absinthe, 2
Jenika
Snow
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
It was hard not to watch, especially when there was so much raw intensity on display. Sunny held a stack of towels, her fingers digging into the soft material as her gaze settled on one fighter in particular. London was a machine in the ring, with his thick, tattooed covered arms, and body corded with muscle. His hits could bring a man to his knees, and she had seen it on more than one occasion. Her father, Harlond McGrieve, owned a back alley gym where he trained a lot of MMA fighters, and ones that ran in the underground circuit. At twenty-two years old, Sunny had always lived with the violence and testosterone that filled the fighters surrounding her. She considered most of them friends, and even though she was an only child there was one fighter that she thought of like a big brother, Mack Draykovich. But then there was London Stein, a force to be reckoned with, and a fairly new fighter who had joined her dad’s
facility
to train for the underground circuit.
Sunny leaned against the wall and watched as he boxed with Mack. The Russian was one of the more seasoned MMA fighters, and a big one at that. Mack was a beast of a guy, nearly six-foot-five and weighing in at three-hundred pounds, and he was known for his one hit knock-outs, which happened more times than not. But she knew the real him, the guy who looked after her above all else. His parents had been Russian immigrants, his dad a doctor and his mom a nurse. But sadly they’d died when Mack was eighteen. Over the next ten years her dad had taken him under his wing, taken him away from a life of petty burglary and random violence, and had helped him focus all of that aggression into cage fighting. She had been twelve when she first met Mack, but the big, scary Russian, even when he was only eighteen, had been a gentle giant to her. They had been close ever since, and that was ten years now.
Watching London circle Mack, witnessing him take the powerful hits, but give them just as hard, she knew Mack had finally met his match. Mack threw a right hook, but London dodged it a millisecond before contact could be made. Sunny’s heart pounded something fierce at the sight, and it was strange to feel this kind of nervousness while watching two fighters go at it. She was more than a little numb to the whole cage fighting spectacle since living around it her whole life, but there was something vastly different about watching London take down a guy, throwing a punch to their face and body, and seeing blood form from the violence.
She had never gotten excited about the aggression that surrounded her on a daily basis, but since London had started training with her dad she had been transfixed. He was severely ripped in a purely masculine way, and his thickly corded arms were covered in colorful tattoos from shoulder to wrist.
“Sunny girl, you good?”
Larson, a retired MMA fighter, stopped in front of her. His hair was wet from sweat, and his face and chest were slightly flushed from his workout. The jagged six inch scar that started at his collarbone and worked its way to his nipple stood out. She knew how he had gotten that scar, knew the horror that he had seen all because of some psychopath who couldn’t handle the fact he lost a championship title. Even after knowing Larson for several years, seeing that scar never lessened the pain she felt for him, and for everything he had lost because of it.
“I’m good, why?” She looked into his eyes, which were so dark, so emotionless, that she always felt like she was staring into a black hole. Larson was an enigma, a powerful fighter who had no emotions, not anymore at least, and because of that was more machine than human. But she saw his eyes soften when he looked at her, and knew that beneath the apathy, there was still a man buried deep inside of him.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “You look deep in thought, and a little breathless.” He held her gaze, and she knew that there wasn’t a whole lot that got past Larson. He let his eyes travel to the ring right behind her, and when he looked at her again she saw the knowing gaze he gave her. “Better be careful, buttercup.” He’d started calling her that shortly after he came to train at her father’s gym.
“Careful?” Playing dumb was probably not going to make her look innocent, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone, especially the fighters at the gym, that she had been lusting after London for longer than she cared to admit. The corner of his mouth kicked up, but it wasn’t a real smile, because she knew Larson never smiled. It was more of a reaction to the fact he knew she was being coy, and acting like she had no clue what he was talking about.
“Fighters can be too much at times.” A dark look crossed his face, but he quickly schooled his features, and she knew it was because he was afraid of scaring her. “Just be careful.” He held her gaze for another long second, then tilted his chin as a parting gesture and headed toward the showers.
Sunny’s heart was still beating a mile a minute, and when she turned back to the ring it was to see Mack bracing his arms over the rope, his back curved forward and his chest rising and falling with his increased breathing. London was on the other side of the ring, and everything stilled inside of her as she saw his stare was trained solely on her. There was a strange emotion that flickered across his face, but aside from that he was unmoving. It was clear he had won the fight with Mack given the fact some of the other fighters were boasting how he kicked the giant’s ass, but none of that mattered as she looked into his eyes. Even from this distance she could see how blue they were.
Heat immediately moved through her body, and pooled uncomfortably between her thighs. God, she really needed to get control of herself. Being with a fighter was not something she was going to even explore. They were far too rough, many of them whores in their own right, and she knew their alpha and domineering ways would not go over so well with her. Even if by some cosmic miracle London wanted her, he was the worst of the lot when it came to sleeping around, and that was saying something since none of them were blushing virgins. Just overhearing about their sexual exploits was enough to have Sunny wanting to douse
herself
in bleach just to feel clean. But then again being around men like them all the time, ones that were big, muscular, tattooed and all the way alpha, women naturally flocked to them, including her. It had to be some kind of inner calling, like a female going after the biggest and strongest male, and the one that she knew without a doubt would take care of her in
all
aspects.
That was what London was to her, that one male that called to her body, made her weak in the knees, and wanting her to do so many filthy things that she made herself blush by her thoughts alone. She may be twenty-two years old, and had only been with one guy intimately, but it certainly wasn’t by choice. Her dates had taken one look at her father, who was a beast even at his age, and gotten the speech that if they fucked with his only daughter not only would he rain wrath down upon them, but so would the big Russian standing right behind him. This tended to have her dates keeping her at arm’s length distance, if that speech alone hadn’t had them running in the other direction.
The only time she had been with a guy had been because she was the one with the balls and made the first move. She even had to tell her date, promise him, that she wouldn’t tell her father or Mack. He had been that frightened. To say her adolescent years, and even some in her adulthood, were awkward, was an understatement. But how could Sunny feel put out because they cared about her wellbeing?
“Dude, get your dick out of your hand.” Liam, a newer fighter called out from across the gym to London, and Sunny forced herself to turn away. If she wasn’t careful her wandering eyes were going to get her in trouble. London Stein was not for her, not in any shape or form, and she needed to get that through her head.
****
London watched Sunny leave, and fuck him but he couldn’t help but stare at her ass. It was made for a man’s hands, mouth, and cock. He was a dirty bastard for thinking such things about his trainer’s daughter, but she was gorgeous in every fucking way, and so out of his league. Her long, honey colored hair brushed the top of that glorious ass, and he had pictured those long strands wrapped around his fists as he fucked her from behind. His dick started to harden behind his track shorts, and he cursed and adjusted himself in hopes no one saw the wood he was sporting. It was bad enough that he saw her constantly watching him, because knowing that she clearly wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, made trying to stay away from her that much harder. Shit, he could see her fucking nipples tighten under her shirt whenever he was near, and hearing her breath catch when he spoke to her did funny things to him, things that were liable to have him take matters into his own hands and ease the need that he felt whenever she stepped into a room.
But those kinds of thoughts and needs would end up getting his ass handed to him by Mack and her father, Harlond. She needed to stay away from guys like him, ones that fucked plenty of random, nameless women every week, and never went back for seconds.
Some probably thought he had a fucked up childhood, but he didn’t. His home life had been fine, loving and caring even. He was just wired differently he supposed, because he liked to fight, drink, and fuck, and not in that particular order either. She deserved a nice guy, one that wore Dockers and brown loafers with the fucking penny in them. She needed to settle down with a guy that would wait until they were married to be intimate with her, be all sweet and gentle and shit, instead of one like him. His thoughts were downright filthy, especially when he imagined taking her up against a wall in a dirty alley and fucking the shit out of her until she screamed out his name. Damn, he really wanted to hear her scream out his name.
Mack play punched him in the arm, but it still hurt like a bitch. The guy was built like fucking tank, and that was saying something since London wasn’t some scrawny asshole. Mack may have three inches and about fifty pounds of muscle on him, but London had been the one who came out the victor in today’s fight.
“You
gonna
cry now?” London grinned, and Mack narrowed his eyes.
“I let you win, dick.”
London cocked an eyebrow and smirked.
“That so?
Well, thanks for letting me land those kidney shots, and clocking you in the eye. Oh, and thanks for tapping out so early.” Mack went to play punch him again, but London dodged out of the way and hit Mack in the stomach. It wasn’t hard enough to do any damage, but had enough force behind it to let Mack know he could take him down again. Mack spun around, but he had a grin on his face.
“For a big guy you’re pretty quick on your feet,” Mack said and slapped him on the back goodheartedly.
They both jumped down from the ring. London looked back to where Sunny had been standing and ran a hand over his sweat soaked hair. He felt the short strands on the back of his neck stand on end and turned to see Mack watching him intently.
After a prolonged moment the other fighter said, “You want to hit up the bags?”
He knitted his brows at the other guy, feeling something off with him. Mack turned, and London followed him toward the punching bags that hung from the ceiling. The facility they worked out at held everything they would need to train for any kind of fighting completion, illegal kind, too. It was a facility that wasn’t “on the map” so to speak, and if someone didn’t run in a certain group, then they didn’t know about the place.
Mack took his spot behind the red bag and held it still. The way he watched London had him straightening in annoyance.
“What?” London didn’t leave out the bite in that one word. Mack didn’t speak for a long while, and London could see he was thinking about something, hard. “What the fuck you looking at me like that for, dude?”
Mack breathed out and looked over London’s shoulder. He did the same and saw Sunny walking out of the locker room in her workout clothes, which were so fucking
formfitting
they didn’t do anything to hide her figure.
Shit
. He ran a hand over his mouth. She needed to go wear a baggy shirt and some sweats, because the way she looked in that spandex had his cock growing uncomfortably hard. The top she wore molded to her breasts, ones that were big and round and more than a handful. Just the way he liked. The flare of her hips had him imagining himself sliding between her thighs, and fitting his pelvis in perfectly with hers as he fucked her good and hard. Wait, no, there wouldn’t be any fucking going on, at least not concerning the two of them.